Time Is Running Out
by Helena363
Summary: Christian/Syed. My take on how Syed felt just before, during and after perfect moment on 16/4/2010, and onwards.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I suddenly had inspiration for this fic in the middle of the night, so I hope it doesn't look too much like I wrote it at 2am! It's set just before, during, and after Christian and Syed's perfect moment on 16/4/2010. Some of the dialogue is mine, and some is from EastEnders itself. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Syed's POV  
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I held my breath, threatening tears stinging my tired eyes. "...I've got to go."

"Then go."

I gazed into his waiting face, ready to say goodbye again, but something in his twinkling emerald green eyes stopped me. Those eyes didn't just look at me and see the good little Muslim boy, decorating his flat to move in with his newlywed wife, that everyone else saw. Those eyes saw _into_ me. They saw a devoted man, lost and exhausted by the effort of keeping up this constant facade. They saw the real Syed, the one who cried himself to sleep every night because he was hurting two innocent people; his wife and his lover. Something about those eyes drew me in every time. That was why I'd kissed him... I shouldn't have kissed him. We both knew that after that kiss, I wouldn't be going anywhere.

I let the silence hang between us. I couldn't leave him. The vibrant, easy-going, confident man in front of me looked different in the dark. He looked sad... and alone. And it was my fault. I couldn't leave him like that. I wouldn't.

I hesitantly touched the stubble on his left cheek, my body zinging with electricity at even this small touch. "I'm sorry. You deserve better than me."

His eyes softened. "Go home, Sy. Your family will be waiting." My hand froze as my thudding heartbeats echoed across the empty room.

"But I don't want to lose you. You're the one I care about."

There. I'd said it. I looked at his expression expectantly, but there was nothing. Perhaps a small flicker of emotion in his eyes, but that could have been a car's headlights reflecting in them as it drove past the window. I tried to cover up my dry sob as a sigh, dropped my hand to my side and moved towards the door. His words from that morning echoed through my mind. _"Either you are with me, or you are not. I am better than this. Either be with me, or just leave me alone."_ It was too late. I'd got what I deserved... I'd already lost him. He _was_ better than this, so much better, and he deserved so much more than I could give him in this life. I'd go home, paste that smile back on my face and have dinner with my family. Like the good son, good man and good Muslim that I was. My heart was breaking, but I didn't need to break theirs too.

Suddenly, a strong hand gripped my wrist and broke my train of thought, twisting my body until I was facing back into the room I'd been leaving.

"You won't lose me, Sy. You won't ever lose me, unless you want to."

I took a deep breath, his touch automatically giving me the energy to speak again. "Never?"

"I promise."

I collapsed into his embrace, sighing as our lips collided. His mouth, so smooth, warm and inviting, relaxed me as our bodies melted together. His soft, wet tongue gently pushed my lips apart and touched against mine, teasing me in the way he knew I loved. Suddenly, I didn't need to worry about anything else; I had Christian, and that was all that mattered.

Sparks of electricity flitting through my body, I tugged on his coat from behind his back and he relaxed his arms long enough to allow me me to pull his coat off. He reciprocated the action, and I backed up against the wall as my coat joined his on the floor, pulling him with me, suddenly needing to feel his body pressing flush against mine. I couldn't breathe but I didn't want to; everything felt just like it was how it was meant to be. We were two pieces of a puzzle, and nothing was right in the world until we fit ourselves together.

His lips attacking mine and his hands tangled in my hair, I lifted his vest slightly and touched my fingertips against the skin just above his waistline. With a slight intake of breath at the unexpected touch he shoved his groin into mine, giving me the go-ahead. I expertly unbuttoned his jeans and grasped hold of his silky smooth hardness. Christian moaned and pushed himself into my hand. I needed him, and I could feel he needed me too. I gently untangled one of his hands from my hair and guided it down to my jeans. "Please..."

Christian grunted in response and roughly pulled my jeans open, moaning again as he felt how hard I was.

I barely even noticed the pain as he pushed himself inside me in one rapid yet still gentle movement, the pleasure overriding my senses and taking my breath away. I could feel the clamminess of his skin under his vest, smell the faint yet intoxicating smell of his aftershave, hear his groans and whimpers, and feel the indescribable pleasure of _him_... a pleasure only he could bring me. All the pent up tension of the day released itself in five swift movements, my breath hitching and Christian's body shuddering as we climaxed in unison, pressing ourselves against the wall in such a way that our shaking legs wouldn't give way right there and then.

I waited for the twang of guilt that I knew I should be feeling. My family... and my _wife_... were patiently sitting at home with my birthday meal, waiting for my return, yet here I was claiming the best birthday present of all from my secret lover. But the guilt never came. I knew it was wrong, but at the same time, how could I think of something that felt this right as something so unforgivable?

Christian was the first to move, raining kisses down my now damp shirt as he bent down and pulled up my jeans, fastening them for me, and then his own. My heart swelled with love but any words would have seemed inadequate, so I simply stilled his face with my hands and looked deeply into his eyes. He smiled back, and my heart flipped. There was the glint in his eye again.

I'd found the fire that seemed to reignite every time we were together like this.

"Christian..."

He pressed a finger to my lips to silence me and took my hand, leading me across the room. "Come here... lie down." The words were just a whisper on his lips.

Unwilling and unable to disobey I sank to the floor, tugging his hand suddenly and causing him to almost fall on top of me. "Ha, got you!" I grinned as he regained his balance and lay next to me, resting his head on one arm. "Cheeky! And there I was trying to be kind and supportive, well that's the last time I'll do that..."

His words faded away as we stared into each others' eyes. Something felt different. It had always been different with Christian - everything more intense and memorable than ever before - but tonight we didn't even feel like joking around. I loved this man, and he loved me, and nothing could ever change that... and suddenly I realised that I wanted him as more than just an affair, more than just my dirty little secret; I wanted him to be my life.

He raised his right arm and softly pushed my hair out of my face, before tracing a path down my face and gently, ever so gently, brushing over my lips. "I love you," he mouthed, almost imperceptibly. I heard the beating of my heart and the whisper of his soft, entrancing breaths as his mouth lowered to meet mine again. My hand stroked the back of his neck as the tenderness of his touch filled my being.

A voice broke the tranquillity around us. "I'm sorry."

I jumped, looking over Christian's head to see the retreating shape of a man. I couldn't see his face but his body shape and posture seemed remarkably like... no, it couldn't be. Please, no. My fears jumped out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Was that my dad?"

And suddenly, the guilt hit me like a truck. What was I doing? I had a perfect life made for me, and here I was selfishly giving into my desires and risking everything. What if he'd seen us together? He would never forgive me. _I had to get out._

-x-x-x-

And so here I am, lying in bed, emotional pain crippling me. I couldn't face Amira tonight so I'd had an early night, pretending to be asleep when she'd followed me up half an hour later. I couldn't face Christian either, so I'd called him and pretended everything was fine, before hanging up on him. I had hoped that saying the words out loud would have convinced me of their truth, but they hadn't. Dad told me he had seen Christian with 'another man', but I knew immediately that he'd seen me. The way he'd glared at me with a pointed, _"That kind of thing, it's just wrong"_, had chilled me to the bone. He'd seen me alright... but he wasn't like my mother. Maybe he'd give me enough time to sort this out.

If I turn my head to the left I can see my wife sleeping beside me. She's beautiful and loyal, would be a dream spouse for many men; she can do so much better than me. She doesn't deserve to have her lying, cheating husband smash her very being into smithereens. Now I can imagine Christian's face in my mind – such a benevolent, caring, loving man – I don't deserve him either. All I've ever done is raise his hopes before dashing them, time and time again. He needs so much more than I'll ever be able to give him. _This is all my fault. What have I done?_

Everything I felt and said earlier was real... I want Christian. Just Christian. I need him like I need oxygen to breathe. I know my situation is impossible, and everybody's going to get hurt if I tell the truth. But my dad knows... the secret's out. Time is running out, and I'm incapable of stopping it.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I wasn't going to continue this story, but suddenly had inspiration late one night. This chapter and the next one are quite depressing... sorry! I hope you enjoy it anyway, and please review if you have time :). This chapter is set after Amira tells Syed she is pregnant on the 20th April 2010.**

**Syed's POV**

I heard my mother's voice screeching behind me as I calmly walked to the front door. "Syed! Syed, where on earth do you think you're going? I'm talking to you! Hello? Your father needs to say something."

I spun around in the hallway, accidentally catching my father's eye over Mum's shoulder. The look was one that was becoming all too familiar; one of disgust combined with disappointment and, somehow, a touch of apathy.

"I just need some fresh air, Ma, I've been inside all day. I'll be back in a bit." I yanked my coat off the hanger and raced out of the door before she had a chance to persuade me to stay.

The cold air stung my face but it was a welcome distraction. _"I'm pregnant," she'd said, on the phone. "I'm pregnant! We're having a baby!" I was glad she couldn't see my face, as I wasn't sure I'd be able to conceal my expression. I was horrified. Delighted, but horrified. I felt my stomach drop with a sickening lurch and forced myself to reply, "That's amazing!" Why did I feel so bad? This was what I always wanted... wasn't it?_

I began running across the square, to get as far away from the growing tension in my family home, from my parents, from my pregnant wife, and from my responsibility, as I possibly could.

I needed comfort, and the warmth of the embrace that only someone who would always love me could give me. I knew where I had to go.

I pressed the buzzer outside Christian's flat. Nervously checking the darkness of the square over my shoulder, I pressed it again. I'd be in unimaginable trouble if I was caught there. "Come on, come on..."

"Hello?"

I smiled at the sound of Christian's voice, despite myself. "It's me."

Immediately the street door clicked open and I rushed inside, kicking it shut as I jogged up the stairs.

**Christian's POV**

Opening the door to my flat slowly, I was taken aback as a bedraggled Syed bowled through the gap and into my arms. Straight away, I was alarmed by Syed's unexpected display of affection – usually, I was the first to make a move, the first to kiss him, the one who always had to coax him out of his shell.

"Hey, Sy... what's wrong?"

His voice muffled by the close proximity of his face to my chest, Syed shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing, don't worry."

I gently prised Syed's face away from myself and gazed into his troubled eyes. They looked empty. The man in my arms was merely an echo of the funny, comfortable man I'd grown to love. "It's not nothing. Look at you, Sy. Please tell me – I want to help you."

Syed stepped back and yanked his hands through his hair. "I just... I'm so wound up, everything's going wrong, this wasn't how it was meant to happen. My dad, he hates me. My mum won't stop nattering at me for more than five minutes, and if I have to look through another clothing catalogue with Amira I'll scream. The tension in our house in unbearable – you could cut it with a knife. I... I can't breathe." His voice was shaking but he stepped back from my offer of a hug. Instead, he took one of my hands and rested it on his belt buckle. "Please, help me. I need you."

Immediately realising what he was asking, my concern rose higher. "Like this? Are you sure?"

Syed nodded determinedly. "Like this. Please." Clutching my shirt, he tried to show me how much he needed me with his eyes.

He knew me too well. It worked.

I unzipped my lover's dark jacket and dropped it in the middle of the room before wordlessly taking him by the hand and leading him to the bed. I tentatively pressed my lips to Syed's, who responded with an equally gentle but lingering kiss, before deftly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans.

"Onto the bed."

Silently agreeing, Syed lay on his back on the bed, pulling me down next to him and kissing me again, still slowly, but also harder and more passionately. As his fingers fluttered up my arm, I sensed his anger and desperation fizzling out at my caressing touch, instead being replaced by the warm glow of love that spread to me whenever he was within a close propinquity to me. His moans vibrated my lips as my tongue caressed his. I slipped my hand inside his boxers, finding him hard and ready. "Just relax."

I gripped Syed's need and looked deep into his eyes. Slowly stroking upwards, I revelled in the way his eyes rolled backwards a little in pleasure, in spite of the emotional anguish he was suffering. Maintaining our eye contact, I glided my hand back down his length, observing the effect my touch had on him. I noticed there was still some tenseness in Syed's muscular shoulders, like an underlying current of emotion was threatening to spring free of his body.

I closed my eyes and lowered my mouth to his head to speak, brushing my lips across the soft lobes of his ear. "It's okay, Syed. I'll always be here for you. You're the one for me, and I'll wait for you. Forever, if I have to. I just want you to be happy."

**Syed's POV**

I blinked back the tears that Christian's words had evoked, overcome with emotion at the combined effect of the feeling of his strong yet gentle hand stroking me, and the impact of his low, gravelly voice. Trembling, I grasped his free hand and squeezed it tight, hoping the action could convey the words I couldn't say.

**Christian's POV**

Beads of sweat formed on Syed's brow; his breathing speed increased and his grip on my hand tightened as I stimulated him increasingly rapidly. We gazed into each other's eyes, Syed's deep brown eyes clearly conveying his need where his voice had failed him. Recognising the signs, I leaned forward again and whispered in his ear. "I... love... you."

Syed pushed his head back into the pillow and reached his climax hard and suddenly, moaning and shaking as he came in my firm grip. I watched the way his lip curved in a slight smile, his eyes clenched shut and he turned his head slightly towards mine as he lost control of his actions. He always did that; unknowingly turning towards me during the height of his pleasure. He unclenched his hand as some of the tension was released from his body, and I placed a gentle kiss on his sticky forehead.

**Syed's POV**

Lowering my gaze from the ceiling, I focused on Christian's sparkling green eyes. His high cheekbones and perfectly formed face made him a thing of beauty to look at. And beneath the face and muscular, toned body lay a man with a capacious, loyal, heart of gold. He was truly a beautiful man; one who had promised to give himself, heart and soul, to _me_.

But I couldn't give myself back, not fully. The momentary pleasure of being in Christian's company – the sweet hours that I wished would drag on forever – were simply glimpses of the life I couldn't let myself have. I was aware that as soon as I stepped back outside Christian's flat, I was back in the real world.

Unable to stop the tears for any longer, I melted into Christian's chest and let them stream down my face. Every speck of happiness I enjoyed around Christian felt tainted by my feelings of failure. I tried so hard to stop myself from seeing him. I was going to be a _father_ – what was I doing still sneaking around behind everyone's backs? What kind of example would I be setting if my innocent child ever found out I wasn't happy living with their mother? But then, what kind of father would I be if I left her without a husband, and my child with only one parent? Tightening my grip around the body of the only person I could be myself around, again I cried for what I should be, for what I wanted to be and for what I knew I could never be.

**Christian's POV**

I held his man against my chest as he sobbed, stroking his unruly hair as he let it all go. Every one of Syed's shuddering sobs ripped straight through my heart too, but I knew I had to hold it together for him. One of us had to be strong. It had happened before, but never to this extent... never had Syed needed to rely on my presence for comfort so badly. Usually he'd crack a joke to lighten the mood, and then wrinkle his little forehead when he realised it wasn't as funny as it sounded in his head; but I could tell that wasn't going to happen this time.

I thought back bitterly to the time when I thought I was the one who was hard done by. Syed, perfect Syed, had his family, a beautiful girlfriend, his religion, his community, and a future. I, Christian Clarke, had a rented flat, a string of forgettable one night stands, a best friend who never had time for me and a book of memories of my past. How could I ever have known that the golden Masood boy was hiding a secret deep enough to rip apart his entire life? Even now I didn't – couldn't – fully understand why it had to be such a big deal; but the broken, shattered man in my arms told me all that I needed to know. I had the greatest gift of all – the ability to be happy within myself – which was something Sy had never had. I could see, although I wasn't entirely sure why, that his cocoon was unravelling around him.

Suddenly, "I need to go. I'm sorry." A pause, and a whisper in the darkness, "I love you. I wish you could be my everything."

Then the door slammed, and he was gone.

-x-x-x-

I look around my flat, taking in the unwashed dishes and the half-prepared dinner on the kitchen counter, beckoning me. It doesn't look so appealing now – nothing is appealing in comparison to the man I love. Sighing, I scramble under the duvet, pulling it over my head and burrowing my face into the pillow Syed has just been lying on. The sweet scent of his shampoo overrides my sense of smell, and I close my eyes in defeat. That's enough for one day.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Just a short chapter this time, to portray Christian and Syed's states of mind during and just after the episode the 6th May 2010. Hopefully the chapters will get a little more cheerful after this one, although no promises as to when the next one will appear! ** Massive thank you to everyone who's reviewed and commented so far, it means a lot! :) **x**

**Christian's POV**

"_You hear this. I don't ever want to see you again."_

I collapsed onto my sofa, hugging a cushion to myself in a futile attempt to fill the gaping hole inside me. He'd come to me, with his life packed in a suitcase, expecting me to take him back again. Because that's what I did, wasn't it? I let him stamp on my heart, shattering it, and then let him put the pieces back together when, and only when, he decided.

But this time it was different. It had been too long, far too long. It was too late. I'd taken a vicious beating on his behalf, because the coward had run away when everything became too much for him, and when I'd finally seen him again... he'd walked straight past me. Like I didn't even matter.

I was absolutely furious. How dare he come back to my flat? I'd told him the truth – I never wanted to see him again.

Admittedly, something inside me had almost snapped and taken him back when he looked at me with those devastated, tear-filled eyes. But then I remembered everything he'd done, everything that had happened to me because of us. Because of him. Even if I let him back in, it would probably only be a matter of time before he'd run, with his tail between his legs, back to his parents, pandering to their disgusting homophobic attitude.

But why was I crying? Why did the thought of a life without him feel like a self-imposed prison sentence... a half-life? I buried my head in my shaking hands and deluded myself into thinking I could forget him.

**Syed's POV**

I sank onto the sofa, my anguish ripping through me like scissors through tissue paper. Christian's last words repeated in my head like a cruel stuck record. _"I don't ever want to see you again. I don't EVER want to see you again."_

The last time I'd been this alone... it wasn't so bad. I'd only been 19, but I was sure of myself and confident of my abilities. I could get anything I wanted, and I knew it – so rather than wallow in self pity, I'd packed myself off to Leeds and sweet-talked my way into a well-paid job. Simple.

Only, now, it wasn't so simple. Since returning to live with my family again, Christian had been slowly chipping away at my thick, artificial, outer shell that not even I myself had known was there. I'd slowly let Christian into my heart, and we were in love – so in love. Together, we had been invincible. But now I realised I had even messed that up. Christian didn't want me anymore; he'd made that much clear. My wife didn't want me either, or my community... and my parents couldn't even bear to look at me. I toyed with the prayer beads in my hands, before grasping them suddenly in my fist. Why hadn't my faith helped me? Had my disobedience left me alone there too?

I jumped as there was a small popping sound as the chain broke, and the beads dropped from my hands, noisily clattering to the floor before rolling around on the dusty floorboards.

Sobbing quietly, I took in the image. They were shattered, useless and broken – just like me.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Firstly, massive apologies for my recent lack of updating! Especially to readers of the first fic I started; that's long overdue an update but I haven't come up with anything to write and my fics always suffer if I try to write without inspiration. Hopefully inspiration will strike again soon. This is something I wrote over the summer but have only just had time to check and adjust it. I hope I've caught every error and typo! I appreciate everyone who reads and reviews my fics - or even just reads them - and I hope you all enjoy this. This chapter is set on the 13th July 2010, and all scenes but the first and last one occured in the episode. I'll try my best to get something else out in the near future, so keep your eye on this and my other fics :) x  
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**Christian's POV  
><strong>_Never had I seen such hatred. Yes, I'd been beaten up twice by men who loathed me – but they were strangers. Even those memories paled in comparison to the look of utter disgust in her eyes. If looks could kill…_

_Her husband, of course, looked straight through me. To him, I wasn't even the mess that a dog had left behind; I simply didn't exist. I wasn't even sure which reaction was worse. Roxy, bless her, took offence on my behalf and started mouthing off, but they didn't acknowledge her existence either; instead choosing to walk away once they were sure I knew how they felt._

As if I don't know already.

As if I don't spend every waking moment of every single day wishing I could stop loving him. Wishing I could forget how it feels to have to those soft olive-toned hands tentatively touching my face and the back of my neck as we kiss. Wishing those honey-brown eyes would stop causing my every breath to hitch and my heart to stutter and skip a beat, like a dodgy record player.

Every. Single. Time.

Even now, I feel like a love sick teen with a broken heart because I'm not with him, because I _can't_ be with him.

I'd spent weeks telling myself I didn't care. That I didn't love him anymore… that I hated him, in fact. In a way, it's true. I hate that I love him. I hate that he can make me love him without even trying. I hate that he just will not accept what he is. I hate that, sometimes, it feels like he's just been taking me for a ride. I hate that he can even manage to look at me, see me, and then walk away, when it's all I can do not to take him in my arms, hold him close to my heart and kiss him until the world ends.

Those weeks away from him had convinced me that I could survive without him. I, Christian Clarke, could not be beaten by this after everything else life had thrown at me.

That was, until I saw him.

I was jogging backwards, egging on 'lard ball' Roxy, and then suddenly there was someone behind me, restraining me and holding my arms. Before I'd even looked, I knew. I recognised that touch. Quick as a flash, I turned around on the spot, and there he was, his hands on my arms and his scruffy hair falling over his eyes. Every contour of his body was defined and enhanced by the skin-hugging shirt he wore.

"Careful! Slow down. Turn the right way, you could hurt someone."

I watched the way his lips formed the words, but I didn't know how to respond.

I swallowed, opting for a simple, "Sorry."

He continued speaking but I couldn't hear him; I could only feel the electric sparks shooting through his fingertips, and the immense way my body flooded with calm at the knowledge that he was holding me; he was here and I was complete. Did he feel that too?

Clearly not, because after what felt like only a few seconds, he departed just as suddenly as he'd arrived.

I'd stared at the places on my arms where he'd left burning hand prints, and then lifted my gaze to his retreating form, making its way through the market.

"That was weird…"

Breaking the spell, Roxy punched me on the arm. "I am _not_ a lard ball!"

**Syed's POV**  
>My heart flipped involuntarily with the anticipation of seeing his face. He spun around to look at me, the muscles of his biceps brushing against my hands as he turned, a look of bewilderment creasing his features; but I could see the knowing glint in his eye – one that momentarily almost floored me. I took a deep breath, bracing myself. Lice, slugs, parasites. There were lice crawling down his shoulders right at that moment, approaching my hands. Slugs moved over his cheekbones, leaving slimy trails criss-crossing over his face. His eyes were empty and dead.<p>

He didn't say anything after his initial "Sorry". I smiled and planned to walk away, pleased that the therapist's words seemed to be working; proud that I was managing to ignore the throbbing heat radiating from his strong arms. Maybe it could work. But then he looked at me, and my breath hitched. His eyes were full of concern and it pained me to see that he still cared. I'd been relying on his anger, the anger of a man who had just had his heart shattered… but of course he still cared. When his love sent shockwaves through my system time and time again, I wasn't the only one who felt them. And I couldn't wipe them away. He made it clear that he no longer wanted me, and I believed him… but why do those eyes say differently?

I plastered on a fake smile and wrenched my hands away from his arms, my eyes away from his. "He's all yours," I said to Roxy, and bacedk away; the flowers I'd intended to buy for Mum from the stall all but forgotten.

-x-x-

_I'm just going to tell him about our plans for the do. I'm strong, and I can do this. My feelings are unnatural and this is the only way I'll overcome them. _

I took his hand to prove to him that I was over him. Again, the therapist's words flooded my thoughts.

_You don't want him, you want to grasp onto any sense of masculinity you can, to replace what you lost when your parents stole it from you as a child. Remember, he's infected. You don't want him. He's filthy and you need to get away from him. Now._

I stared at our joined hands, silently repeating Allen's words to me. It was working, I felt repulsed, I wanted to push him away… and then I looked up at his face. His skin was covered in writhing maggots, but I still wanted him. I wanted to brush them away and then hold him close, feel his heart beating against me. Pus was seeping from open wounds on his face, but all I wanted to do was kiss them better. If he was infected then I would be too, and we could fight through it together. I couldn't live without him.

"See? Nothing. I don't feel anything." If I heard myself say it, maybe it would come true.

He was coming closer… my heart began thudding in my chest so loudly that I was sure he could hear it.

"I'm not attracted to you anymore." My words, my thoughts, my feelings.

He was so close that if I just pulled my hand in, he would be right up against me, kissing me, breathing into my neck, running his free hand through my hair…

No, no, no. I'd come so far; I wouldn't let him have me again. I dropped his hand like a hot potato and backed away, well aware that the smile plastered on my face was fake. The last thing I wanted to do right then was smile.

Out in the open air, I leant against the wall to compose myself, closing my eyes and pushing the heels of my hands into my eyes in a feeble attempt to will away the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. I could do this.

-x-x-x-

I half-run to the flower stall to continue with my errands, anything to get away from him and his flat.

"Hi, Jean. A bunch of lilies please."

"Of course, Syed. You know, my granddaughter was named after these flowers. They're so beautiful, so pretty… just like Stacey's Lily. Oh, listen to me rambling on. Anything else you'd like?"

I fish the money out of my pocket, praying Jean won't notice my trembling hands.

"That's all – thanks."

I take the flowers and walk back to my home. To my family. To the life I was always meant to live.


End file.
